


say what you need so you'll get more

by shinealightonme



Series: what useless tools ourselves [6]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Author is apparently not as much of a masochist as Adam Parrish (but really who is), Author wouldn't commute from the Westside to downtown Los Angeles if the world depended on it, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 12:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18604576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme
Summary: Adam works days. Ronan works nights. The situation works for nobody.





	say what you need so you'll get more

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon on tumblr who prompted Adam and Ronan in this verse working on opposite schedules and being exhausted disasters but still trying to take care of each other. I adored this idea, I hope I did it justice.

"Parrish."

Adam groans and buries his face in his pillow.

"C'mon, you told me to wake you up when I got in."

"That was last night, when I didn't hate you," Adam says. "Now it's -- what time is it?"

"Quarter to six." Only ten minutes before Adam's alarm goes off. "You going to get up?"

"No, _you're_ going to get in bed." He tugs pathetically at Ronan's arm.

Ronan sighs even as he lifts up the blankets and slides in next to Adam. "You're going to fall back asleep and then I'm going to have to wake you up again and then you're going to say you hate me again. My delicate ego can only take so much of that."

"Sorry," Adam mutters into Ronan's chest. "Didn't mean it. I just hate -- this."

"Yeah, I figured out that subtle metaphor on my own." Ronan rubs his hand on Adam's back. Adam exhales deeply. This feels so nice. This is the first _five seconds_ all week that have felt nice.

"Hm."

"Shit, Parrish, don't fall asleep."

"'m not."

Ronan pinches his side.

"Ow." Adam opens his eyes and finally takes a real look at Ronan. His eyes are drained. For some reason there's streaks of something black on his face. Adam touches it; his fingers come away greasy. "What happened here?"

"I was doubled booked as a grip because nobody had their shit together. I spent half night building shit."

"You shouldn't let them work you so hard -- " Ronan snorts, and Adam talks faster, so he can't interrupt to make some joke about hypocrisy. " -- that's why you have a union."

"Fuck the union."

"You don't mean that."

"I do. Stupid union regs are the reason we're starting our day at eight o'clock at night."

Adam kisses him, because this is the longest conversation he's had with Ronan all week and it doesn't need to devolve into an argument about organized labor. Although he is curious how they're shooting what are supposed to be daytime beach scenes in Malibu in the middle of the night; Ronan's only explanation had been _the MAGIC of HOLLYWOOD_ and eleven sarcastic firework emojis. As soon as he has more time he is going to make Ronan expand on that.

As soon as he has more time he's going to make Ronan do a lot of things.

Ronan's hand slides down to his lower back, heavy with promise.

Adam's alarm goes off.

Ronan groans _fuck_ into his mouth, but he doesn't ask Adam to hit snooze and stay in bed a little longer. They both know Adam would say _no_. They both know Adam would hate saying _no_.

He bites Ronan's lip, his own protest at the situation, and gets out of bed.

"I'll wake you when I get in?" he asks when he's about to head out, and he doesn't know if he's offering a favor or asking for one.

"If I'm still asleep, yeah." Even the combined forces of Hollywood and the Los Angeles Superior Court cannot produce a schedule more unreliable and punishing than Ronan's sleep cycle. "It can be my turn to be the ungrateful bastard."

"We have to take turns?"

Ronan climbs out of bed to kiss Adam goodbye. Adam _is_ grateful for that. He doesn't need the idea of staying to be any more tempting than it already is.

-

Adam is one week into a three week trial. He's been getting assigned to more trials lately, a good omen that amplifies itself. It's proof that the senior attorneys have faith in him, and it's a chance to prove to them that he does know what he's doing, and it's an opportunity to improve his litigation skills so he can continue to impress them. This is, in nearly every way, a good thing.

But _God_ , the hours are awful. Especially when it's a trial downtown. In a just society, downtown and the Westside wouldn't be considered part of the same _state,_ let alone the same county with the same court system. The senior attorney on the case had rented a hotel room to get out of making the drive from Bel Air every day, although Adam gets the impression that he doesn't consider the time away from his third wife to be much of a loss. Adam can't relate.

So trials are hard, they've always been hard, but Ronan's never worked nights during a trial before. He wasn't supposed to _this_ time, either, but his latest production is the kind of exercise in mismanagement that gives Adam a stomachache just to hear about. They've run late every day since the first, which pushes back their start time for the next day. It's snowballed to a situation where Ronan's leaving the apartment just as Adam's getting home.

He's made it through to Thursday, at least. The fourth day of trial, but he spent all day Saturday at the office doing prep, went in Sunday for what was supposed to be a half-day and instead turned into an office supply orgy from hell when they found out at one p.m. that the printer had fucked up their order and they weren't going to have a single one of their materials on hand when trial started the next day at eight a.m.

So it's been _six_ days since he's had any real time with Ronan, and they can blame the county clerk's office or Century City Printing Depot or IATSE or directors who have _a vision_ , but Adam still has a nagging feeling that it's his fault.

He stops at the pie place downtown that Ronan likes after court wraps up for the day. It's a half a mile from the courthouse. That's the least he can do to make it up to Ronan.

Or so he thinks, until he gets up to the apartment and finds Ronan in the hallway, locking the door.

"Shit," Adam says. "Not already?"

Ronan gives the takeout bag in his hand a weird look, but all he says is, "the clock in the Mustang is fucked again, isn't it?"

"I thought I had time."

Ronan presses him up against the wall and kisses him, deeply to make up for it being short.

Adam doesn't ask him _do you really have to go_. That ought to be the absolute least he can do; it isn't. It's hard.

"You don't have time for pie, do you?"

"I'll take it with me." Ronan bites his ear and says something that is probably a muffled _thanks_ , although it may be a very muffled _fuck this_.

Adam gives him the bag. He can't help but think of it as a monkey's paw; doing something to cheer Ronan up _cost_ them time together, which is really, Adam kicks himself for not acknowledging, the only thing Ronan even wants.

He watches Ronan walk down the hall before he lets himself into the apartment, and then he realizes, no, it's not The Monkey's Paw, it's The Gift of the Magi, because there's a note taped to the kitchen window:

 _I don't trust you not to fuck up my kitchen so there's food in the oven_  
_don't fall asleep on the couch_

Adam presses his head against the oven and shuts his eyes. If it's several minutes before he's able to open the door and check on the food, there's no one to know about it.

-

On Friday morning Adam wakes up when Ronan pulls his book out of his hand.

"I told you not to fall asleep reading."

"You told me not to fall asleep on the couch," Adam mumbles.

"So you fell asleep sitting up in bed, sure, that's in the spirit of the law."

"Do you want to argue law with me?"

"I want you -- "

Adam opens his eyes and makes a pleased noise.

" -- to get up -- "

Adam makes a disgruntled noise and shuts his eyes again.

" -- and help me eat this fuckton of food I stole from craft services."

Adam thinks for a second and decides yes, that's worth opening his eyes again.

None of the food could properly be called breakfast: Caesar salad and mac and cheese and barbecue chicken, but Adam's body is running critically low on energy. He's not getting it from sleep, so he's just as happy to eat three dinners at the crack of dawn.

He goes to put coffee on even before eating, because coffee is non-negotiable, but Ronan points him toward a carry tray with four disposable cups. Adam picks one up and nearly recoils. He immediately turns and puts the entire tray of cups in the microwave.

"We have coffee, you know," he says to kill the interminable thirty seconds before the coffee will be potable.

"These are from those K-Cups," Ronan says earnestly. "They're fancy."

"You brought me lukewarm coffee that's bad for the environment."

"I won't tell Sargent if you don't."

"You _will_ , because you'll think it's funny, and then the rest of us will have to sit through the arguing," but Adam is smiling before the microwave has even dinged.

-

Court wraps up ninety minutes early that day because the judge has a _conflicting obligation_ , which on a Friday afternoon is probably code for _head start on the weekend_. Adam doesn't care. He dashes straight for his car, doesn't stop anywhere on the way, just races home.

Except nothing on the 10 can be considered a race. Traffic is godawful. The entire city has apparently decided to get a head start on the weekend, and when the Mustang finally crawls into her parking spot, it isn't any earlier than Adam's gotten home all week. The only difference is he's furious at the waste of time.

He tries to swallow his anger as he makes his way up to the apartment, because there's no use spending the couple of minutes he'll get with Ronan being awful and unpleasant.

Ronan takes one look at him and figures it out anyway, pulls all his frustrations and desperation out of him with two leading questions and fifteen seconds of physical contact.

" -- and this whole stupid week is for _nothing_ ," Adam fumes, gripping Ronan's shirt in painful fists while Ronan strokes his back and noses at the top of his head, "because we're _losing this case_."

"Yeah, but your client's a dickweed, so who cares."

"I don't care that the client is going to lose. I care that _I'm_ going to lose."

"I don't," Ronan says. Adam bristles, but doesn't actually move away. He'll take hostile cuddling over no cuddling at all. "If dickweeds lose even when they have awesome lawyers then that's a triumph for the American justice system."

"Don't pretend you care about America or justice or systems," Adam mutters, but he does, horrifyingly, feel better.

-

He wakes up to the mattress dipping and the blankets sliding off him, a second before Ronan slides into bed.

"I'm up."

"Shh." Ronan slides an arm around him. "Go back to sleep."

"No, I'm up." Adam rolls over, even though his limbs really just want to stay put. It's a weekend, he _can_ sleep in, but he doesn't _want_ to. He can't stand to waste any more time. 

"Parrish, it's three in the morning, go the fuck to sleep."

"What?" He's exhausted, sure, but he's been exhausted for two weeks and he's going to be exhausted for two more. He hadn't realized that this was _only got half a night of sleep_ exhaustion, not _performed three days' worth of mental activity in eight straight hours_ exhaustion. "Why are you here?"

"Wow, way to make a guy feel wanted."

"You just told me to stop being conscious."

Ronan sighs, but scoots closer. One of his feet pokes at Adam; he shifts so their legs tangle together.

The night settles around him like a warm heavy weight. He is going to fall back asleep, soon, but in the meantime he blinks until his eyes adjust enough that he can take in Ronan's face on the pillow next to him.

"The lead got in a screaming match with the director and walked off set," Ronan says, voice low and soft, like this is a bedtime story instead of a cut-rate tabloid article. "The whole fucking project's on hold while the producers figure out how they're supposed to finance a movie that's behind schedule and doesn't have a protagonist."

"Wait," Adam says, "the project is over?"

"You sound really excited about a bunch of people getting put out of work."

"Don't even start with me, Ronan Fuck-the-Union Lynch." Adam leans in to kiss him.

Ronan kisses back, softly. When Adam tries to push for more he says, "don't."

"Oh." Adam is thrown off balance, but of course, it is late. He's only gotten a little sleep, but Ronan has gotten none. "Okay."

"No, it's not like -- " Ronan groans, the way he does when he thinks what he's about to say is weird, which means that it absolutely is weird and Adam absolutely wants to hear it. "I miss sleeping next to you. Just -- being in bed and hearing you breathe and smelling you, all that creepy shit. I've been looking forward to that all week."

Adam is grinning. He didn't even notice when it happened. He just is.

Ronan groans again and smothers his face with the pillow.

"If you want me be asleep, I can do that," Adam says. "But you should really consider asking for something better."

"Yeah, I'm going to." Ronan unearths himself enough to kiss Adam's jaw. "Tomorrow," and this time his kiss lands on the corner of Adam's mouth.

Adam turns his face up. "No, no more of that, you said you didn't want to -- "

"Yeah, yeah. Roll over and pass out already."

Adam rolls over. Ronan presses up against his back, unbearably close and yet the bare minimum amount of contact Adam can stand. He drops a kiss on his shoulder. Adam wants to make a snarky comment about _the letter and the spirit of the law_ , but he's already drifting off.

It can wait; he's got time.

**Author's Note:**

> The pie place Adam stops at downtown is called the Pie Hole and it is worth driving to the Arts District for, which is really the highest praise I can give anything. Also apparently they now have non-Arts District locations, because fuck me, I guess.
> 
> If you like this fic, you can [reblog it on tumblr](https://toast-the-unknowing.tumblr.com/post/184459979445/hi-i-absolutely-love-your-la-au-maybe-bc-i-grew)!


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